


Real

by Frumpologist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hidden Relationship, Secret Relationship, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-17 04:43:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21048509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frumpologist/pseuds/Frumpologist
Summary: It’s always been the same, but tonight Narcissa changes the game.





	Real

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MidnightChardonnay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightChardonnay/gifts).

> To my beautiful, wonderful, Ravenclaw partner in Rare Pair crime: happy birthday, MidnightChardonnay. I adore you! <3

It was always the same.

He’d show up in a fitted suit, hands shoved deep into its pockets, a smirk set in a lopsided line on his face. His eyes would find hers, and they’d follow her path as she flitted about the room.

Always watching. Always waiting.

A glass tumbler in his hand, he’d leave it half-drunk on a floating silver tray when he’d see her walk from the ballroom and into the adjoining corridor.

She’d make small talk with the little pockets of aristocrats. Laugh and expose her long, slender neck. Finger the curve of her cheek, brush long locks over her shoulder, where he would inevitably look for the place he’d bruised the week before.

It wouldn’t be there. She’s far too clever a witch for that. Glamours were all the rage amongst the widowed ladies, after all. Not allowed to move on without bringing shame on their deceased spouse’s name.

Theo snorted; Narcissa had no trouble defiling Malfoy’s home with her breathy sighs and desperate pleas. Not when his head was buried between her legs, and certainly not when he was filled to the hilt inside of her.

But still, they played the game.

He was her plaything. Her night time romance. A way to feel younger, desired.

And he allowed it.

When she tore away from her guests, he followed. Slow, casual. A Nott did not chase.

She rounded a corner, the same corner as always. It was four steps from the library door. When he stepped inside, she’d slide her pristine, jeweled fingers into his neatly kept hair and press him back against the door.

She’d toy with him and tell him that she shouldn’t, couldn’t possibly, continue this torrid affair. And he’d understand, like always, and set his eyes to the perfect bow of her lips.

“Please,” he’d ask, raspy desperation edging his voice. “One more time.”

It was always the same, and he was never disappointed.

She slammed him back against the door. He begged her for once more. He slid to the floor on his knees and buried his head under the thin satin dress she’d chosen special for him. Her hand wound in his hair and the rough of his tongue brought her to orgasm within minutes.

His trousers dropped to the floor and her legs were around his waist. No matter how many times he took here there, he’d always chase his release with a mouth on her throat, biting into her perfect skin.

His name on her lips was a song. It belted through him until he couldn’t hold back, and spilled himself inside her.

She’d shoo him away and promise him never again.

Except her hands were still clenched on his biceps. Her eyes still squeezed shut in her euphoria. She wasn’t swatting him away, nor tell him he was a mistake. Instead, she held him tighter and closer and breathed his name like a prayer.

“Stay tonight.” A wish in his ear.

He could have taken her again right then. Hard and ready as she removed her legs from his waist and slid her dress back to its perfect state over her long legs.

“You’re not sending me away, Narcissa?” He wouldn’t complain. Hell, he’d been trying to stay in her bed for months. But he wondered what the catch was — what dark magic would he need to preform for this to be real?

She laughed, a single crisp sound that tightened his chest. “Draco’s away. Stay the week.”

A week. His eyes darkened. He couldn’t stop himself. Theo pushed her back against the door and stole a bruising kiss from her.

“If I stay, this thing between us is real from now on.” Her fingers slipped past his suit coat and held onto his waist. His lips trailed down her neck and nipped at her when she didn’t answer him. “Real.”

“Yes, Circe, Theodore. It’s real; from now on, it’s real.”

He could raise hell on nothing more than his name on her lips. A smirk pressed into the spot his teeth had sank. With a whole lot more time than a quick fix in the library, Theo had a feeling he’d raise the entire underworld before the week was through.

  
  



End file.
